


Feeding the Feelings

by witchcrime



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demon Dave, Demonstuck, High School AU, M/M, Reckless Behavior, Unstable John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:32:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchcrime/pseuds/witchcrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a demon Dave and moderately unstable John make the most unlikely of friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Telling Time

Inconsistent: adj, not continuing to happen or develop in the same way.

 

Your life has been anything but inconsistent, and that shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. The opposite of inconsistency is consistency; regularity. And that is your life in a nutshell. You would think being in a ‘secure’ environment would thus make someone secure in their surroundings. That isn’t the case. With all the everything that happens around you, and all the nothing you’re experiencing, it can drive anyone crazy. Nothing is more boring than being a human in a demon’s world. 

 

So average and feeble, the human existence is. Compared to that of the average demon or magic practitioner. Which you are neither. You, of course, are so painfully human and typical that not even the most wild and enigmatic of human or demon could possibly change your measly and pathetic fate to live an exceedingly average existence. That of which, you have already tried to contradict. 

 

The days go one just like they always will, and you don’t change. You go to school in the city, and make kind with your peers, you head back home to appease your father for a bit and then sneak out to the skeezy part of town to get feed off of by any demon who’s willing to take you. Something to feel is something to gain and as long as it’s something, it’s better than nothing. 

 

You started going to clubs when you were fifteen. Always looking for trouble at every corner.You never meant to be feed off of by a demon, at least not consciously so. But you were drunk and woozy and willingly to do anything to feel something different. And boy, was it something different! It’s euphoric and you know it has something to do with their teeth and mysticism or something other. It’s meant to calm down the prey so they don’t struggle while they kill them. You didn’t die, obviously. Not that you’re looking for that. Though, you can never be sure. 

 

Once was hardly enough for you. You started making it a habit to get a demon to feed off you, going out practically every night if you had to. And you did. You’ve calmed down with age, but that doesn’t mean you stopped. You haven’t and you don’t think you’d ever. Something about the whole thing is so intoxicating and that’s not just because of the demon blood they feed you if you’re good. It makes you feel alive, something about playing with death and winning makes you feel like you’re smarter and luckier than any man that has ever walked the earth. It’s dangerous and dumb, but you do it nevertheless. 

 

You sway to the beat of the rough and disorderly sound of music being played. The club is misty and smells stale, but you don’t mind. You’re not drunk but you’re getting there and that’s good enough for now. Whoever you’re dancing with puts their hands on your hips and presses there lips to your neck. Your heart flutters in anticipation. Their gelled hair does not make the ideal to grasp at but you do so anyway. You can hear your pulse in your ears, no matter how many times you’ve done it, this never fails to make you nervous. 

 

“This okay?” His voice is raw and it sends chills down your spine. You can only pathetically nod and hope to god he understands. He does.

 

Sharp teeth pierce your delicately human skin and what follows the pain makes you quiver in success and rapture. Your hands tighten in his hair and the back of his sweaty shirt and you groan with the pleasure of feeling. It’s like sparks in your brain accompanied by a tingly feeling all over your body. Far away, you hear a noise and feel a rumble against your chest. Your eyes close. 

 

He presses you closer to him and you’re making indecipherable sounds, the music is thumping and you can feel it around you like if it were humidity. Palpable. Everything about this is good. You can hardly breathe and that’s okay. Everything is okay. 

 

You can’t tell how long has passed, you were never good at telling time. Especially when it came to feeding. All you know is that your head gets hazy and your limbs get weak when they take too much. You faintly hear the music now as your head throbs from little pain. Your body still feels good, really good, but the uncomfortable sting on the neck is starting to ensue and the throbbing feeling in your brain is heavier now. You lightly groan to warn him, but he just holds you tighter. You can feel your heartbeat getting uneven. Irregular beats jolt your body as he sucks the life out of you. You claw at his back and groan louder. 

 

Part of getting bitten is going calm. A sluggish and stunning feeling. Immobility isn’t uncommon when getting fed off of. So it shouldn’t surprise you that all you can do is groan and helplessly hit his back to make him stop. Usually, that would get someone’s attention. Usually. You object with a seemingly powerful grunt, but you can’t be sure. He has to hear you. He has to. 

 

Your teeth are clenched and you eyes shut closed, but once you open them all you see is blurry lights of multiple colors from the stage and blackness. You result to kicking a bit but that only makes you lose your balance. He holds you up with a sigh and continues to drink. What a gentleman. 

 

You start to fear that this is it. This is how you go out. He doesn’t mean to stop, he means to drain you dry. Drain you until you’re nothing but a carcass. No soul, no light, no life left in you. You convulse out of instinct and your eyes sting just like your neck. You breathing is uneven and your heartbeat languid. The biggest breaths you can take make you wheeze and your body aches all over. Everything is pulsing through you, all your memories and experiences and life just being drained out of you by this monster. 

 

You’d fight back if you could. Hell, you’d cry if you could! Nothing is happening besides death and it’s beginning to weigh heavy on you. You’re being lifted from this world and getting filtered into another. You let out a shuddering breath and let go of the back of the demon’ shirt. He’s holding you up with all of his inhuman strength and voracity. Gluttoning himself off of you. The music is so far away and hollow and you feel the edges of yourself beginning to fade-

 

Something rips him off of you, and you fall to the ground without the demon’s support. You faintly hear voices under the music, unintelligible words being thrown at each other in a heated fashion. You can’t tell how long has passed, but you’re suddenly being hoisted up and supported against a wall or something. You’re breathing shallowly and try to open your eyes. You see shimmers of light and shadowy figures. It hurts your head so you shut them. 

 

Something wet and warm is being pressed against your mouth and you helplessly open it. As soon as the taste hits your tongue you moan. It’s thick and milky and sweet and everything good in the world. You drink urgently and as you do you can feel your brain getting less and less foggy. You eventually are able to grasp at the arm that feeds you and hold it to you dearly. You hear a faraway sound coming from above but pay no mind to it. You just drink and drink and drink and drink… 

 

Until it’s pulled away from you that is. You let out an embarrassing whine and you open your eyes only to be welcomed by clarity. Your vision has never been so perfect without your glasses on. Your eyes dart around the space rapidly, taking everything in. Your head is still spinny but in a new and fun way. Your gaze is focused on the most occupying thing near you and that is a somewhat familiar looking guy crouching down in front of you. You shake your head to get rid of the noise that takes up the space in your mind. You blink and try not focus on the spinning world around you. Instead, you set your gaze to the boy’s sunglasses he is uselessly sporting inside of the club. His mouth seems to be moving but the sound is warped from the thrumming in your ears and the beat of the music and the noise in your head. Everything sounds tinny and unfiltered and you strain to hear something, anything. The sound fades painstakingly slow and you eventually hear what this guy’s trying to communicate to you.

 

“... You alright?” The voice is cool and calm and everything you’re not, you clear your throat but decide just to nod. 

 

You touch the wound on your neck and hiss, which brings everything to a very crystally clear. The noises are sharp and the sensations are loud. You gasp for air, and wonder how long it has been since you have gotten a proper breath. 

 

“Th-Thanks…” You say, lamely. You don’t get any physical reaction, but you assume at the angle he is at that he is looking at your neck wound. With the amount of strength it would of took to get that demon off of you, it’s not unlikely this is another. 

 

You don’t realize his arms are steadying you until he pats your shoulders, and stands back up. He gestures for you to take his hand so you do. You’re pulled up quickly and in such a rush that your head blacks out for a bit. 

 

“Let’s get you out of here.” He says loud enough for you to hear over the din. He pulls you away from the lights and the sound and into somewhere wet and dreary. The mist of the rain hits your face and you sigh in contentment. Your skin is hot and the rain so cool, the mixture of these two extremes make you smile. You must look so dopey to this guy but that hardly matters. 

 

He’s leading you toward the front of the club where the parking lot is, and something in your mind tells you to be on guard. But the blood you just drank runs through your veins and mind like a rapid and distorts your thoughts heavily. You can’t be sure if he means to help you or kill you. It wouldn’t make much sense for him to hunt a half emptied human, but it still worries you just the same. You pull your hand out of his, clumsily, tripping over your step and almost falling. He steadies you and furrows his eyebrows. 

 

“Why are you-what are you… Who…” You fail to complete a coherent sentence but he seems to understand your concern. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. 

 

“I’m trying to help you. I’m taking you to my car so I can take you home. We go to school together, I’m Dave.” He answers all your unfinished questions but says them like he’s speaking to a child. You frown. 

 

You want to ask why. Why is he choosing to help you? Not all demons are heartless, per say but there is no reason for him to help you and it just makes you anxious. 

 

“Did you drive here yourself?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts. Your frown deepens. 

 

“Friends… I came here with friends.” That’s partially true. They’re not so much friends as they are random people from school. Whatever, the case it’s not like they’ll worry if they can’t find you. 

 

He grabs your arm, gently, and leads you through the parking lot. You stumble up to a nice truck as he leads you to the side of the car. You shove him off, not all too politely, and mumble something about being able to do it yourself. Not at all coherently but he understands just the same. 

 

You fumble with the seatbelt but manage to get it to click, and lean your head back on the seat. Your mind is spinning from the blood and the blood loss. You really hope you can sneak in without alerting your dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry im this is my first fanfic whoops


	2. Bad Week?

It’s messy when you wake up. You consider going back to bed, but you’ve dealt with many-a-mornings such as this one. Your bed squeaks and you cringe just like every time, but just like every time you don’t wake up your father. So you continue to do what is needing to be done: such as stripping the sheets off the bed, showering the blood off your body, wiping the tears off your face, and getting ready for the rest of the day. You’ve always been careful with how early you wake up, and how quiet it has to be in the house, there is no reason to worry about this morning being any different from the others. Yet you do. 

 

When you’re dressed you head down stairs with the bloodied sheets and make sure to walk extra quietly past your father’s door. Once the laundry is in the washing machine you let out a sigh of relief, as like every time. It’s still dark out, as per usual in these types of mornings, but you stay up, as like every time. 

 

You work on your homework in the kitchen, never missing a dot atop of an “I” or a cross on a “T”, making sure there is nothing anyone can say about you and how you do in school. It could be considered exhausting, like some would say, living a double life, but it’s not so much as double as it is yours. 

 

Eventually, with everything done --every page titled and dated, all the bedding neat and folded-- you head upstairs to faux “get ready” while your father starts to wake. Everything passes just like usual, and you say goodmorning and officially “start” your day. 

 

 

 

 

School passes like school usually does, slow and meaningless, you talk to your “friends” and make jokes and head to lunch. You assumed senior year would of been more meaningful, like something would of come out and grabbed you by now, but half of the school year has gone by and still nothing has remotely caught your interest. How dull. You try to push out the images flickering back and forth of last night, trying to surface and make damage. It’s neither the place, nor time to be thinking of such things. As always though, you start thinking of the most interesting thing at hand, which was last night. 

 

You try not to gasp, as your mind is flooded with lights and noise of every kind. Laughter, yelling, strobe lights, flickering, and pain. You knew last night was different, but it didn’t mean you had to act like it. You don’t know how to acknowledge everything that happened, it's not like it’s happened before. You’ve come close to situations in which you felt that you would faint from how much feeding you let demons do, but you’ve never been caught in a situation in which you thought you would die. 

 

It’s not like demons around here are like that! It’s not like demons around here are starving, or that they are rushing and afraid. The death rate by demons here is one of the lowest in America! That didn’t mean that humans never died by demons, though. You know that. That’s a risk you’ve taken every time you go out to the clubs. But like the dumb kid you are, you never thought it would be you. 

 

You try to push the images of last night away. You were saved. The images are fuzzy, but there. Vriska, or someone is making a joke at your expense and you laugh it off as you try to think about what the last memories of the night were. Someone grabbed you, took you home, you remember the voice. Something something help, something something home… Something school… Something… Something.

 

And like some cheesy film from the late 90s/early 2000s, there it was… Walking through the cafeteria like a wolf into a den, charm dripping off him like only a demon could exert. It was like alarms going off in your mind, something stirring in your gut. That was the guy who saved you. 

 

_“I’m trying to help you. I’m taking you to my car so I can take you home. We go to school together, I’m Dave.”_

 

It’s like your brain is fizzing, like a well shaken soda can. He looks just like… It doesn't matter. You feel sick. Someone asks “What’s wrong with him?” as you get up, it echoes in your head. You make a bee-line for the nearest exit. You barely make it outside into the parking lot without falling over. Shaking and flickering in and out, you vomit into a trashcan.

 

“Bad week?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly didnt think it would take this long to write another shitty chapter but it did and im sorry!!! its so short too !!!! ahhh please forgive me !!! hopefully this isnt too bad i promise the next chapter will be much longer i just dont know how to write like.. inbetweens... im sorry if there are any typos i kinda wrote this late at night ditzy off nyquil so please be kind.. okie dokie !!! please enjoy!! bye !!!


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